


letter

by worstgirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Implied Child Abuse, Jeremy Heere Needs a Hug, Mostly just a letter, Pre-Canon, implied suicidal thoughts, kind of a character study?, lowkey a vent but shh i just like angst, oh no i’m using “short quotes” come at me copyright gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl
Summary: “I wrote Christine a letter telling her how I feel!”—or, the letter
Relationships: Jeremy Heere & Michael Mell, Jeremy Heere/Christine Canigula (one-sided)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	letter

“I wrote Christine a letter telling her how I feel!”

“That’s progress!”

—

Jeremy stared down at the paper in his hands. It was covered in blue pen and crossouts, crumpled at the edges and torn a little bit. It was hard to read through the mess. 

_ Dear Christine, _

_ You barely even know me. I don’t know why I’m writing this letter to you, of all people.  _ ~~_ I should be writing this to Michael, right? He is my best friend.  _ ~~ _ But it doesn’t make sense. I don’t know.  _

_ This was originally supposed to be a letter telling you how much I like you, but I don’t know how to do that without being  _ ~~_ pervy _ ~~ _ creepy. I’m just writing to get out my feelings. I’ve heard somewhere that’s therapeutic or something. I don’t know.  _

_ I first noticed you in seventh grade. You were the star of our show, even though you were the one girl who came from a different grade school. We did a really bad production of Cinderella, and you were a great Stepmother. I know you were upset when Chloe got Cinderella, but you were so good. (Remember me? I got cast as a servant, which was okay  _ _ since I ~~threw up before going on~~ had awful stage fright anyways.)  _

_ This makes no sense. Basically: you don’t know me. And if this works, you’ll  _ ~~_ never get the chance to know me _ ~~ _ be able to know me eventually. I’m going to  _ _~~kill myself~~ _ _ kiss you someday, if I have the chance.  _

_ God, that sounds so creepy.  _

_ I just feel like you’re the only person who gets how I feel. You gave a persuasive speech last year, in Lit class third period with Mrs. Greenfield, about how you thought that theater deserved more recognition in the media as an art form, but you eventually forgot your cards and just started ranting up at the podium until she cut you off.  _

_ I don’t know why I remember that. But I remember no one applauding for you. I wanted to. I don’t know why I didn’t. I think it’s because I didn’t want to be the only one applauding.  _

_ But it made me think. You’re an outcast, like me, but you don’t let it hurt you.  _ ~~_ I want to get out of this, I don’t want to be an outcast. I want to be anything but that, I’d rather be dead than be an outcast, I want to be dead. If nothing happens soon, I’m going to be dead and no one can stop me and you can’t stop me and Michael can’t stop me. _ ~~

_ I want to be like you, I want to be able to talk to people and not panic. I want to be able to talk to you and not panic. I want to get to know you. I like you, I think. You’re nice, and pretty, and smart, and you’re so utterly talented that it makes me so amazed to see you up there performing and loving what you do  _ _~~and I’m so not worth your time, I want to be worth your time~~. _

_ You talked to me once in eighth grade, when Billy Leroy shoved me into a locker. You were the only one who stopped to help me pick up my stuff after it had strewn across the floor. You smiled at me in the hallways after that, but we never talked again. You said you liked my shirt. I wore stripes a lot more after that. I don’t know if you noticed.  _

_ I notice you a lot. I notice a lot of people, but you’re nice to watch. That sounds so creepy.  _ ~~_ God, why am I such a creep? I hate being me, I hate being like this, I’m so gross. You’ll never like me. _ ~~ _ But you’re nice to everyone. I think I’m just one of so many guys you complimented on something, but it made my day. It made my life.  _ ~~_ That day I went home and came back to school with a black eye. I don’t think you noticed. Michael noticed, but by that time he was used to me getting black eyes after going home. _ ~~

_ I want to get to know you so badly. I want to be able to talk to you but I’m so scared. I go up to talk to you and I totally panic. I tried talking to you on the last day of school last year. I ended up just awkwardly asking you to sign my yearbook, which you did. You didn’t leave a note.  _ _~~But I saw you leave a note in Sarah Goodman’s yearbook, and you’d never talked to her, I think, and I’m so fucking anxious.~~ _

_ I just want to talk to you.  _ ~~_ I want to talk to someone. Michael doesn’t get it. He tries, so hard, and I don’t think you’d get it either, but something has to change. I have to change. If I don’t change, I’ll be gone, I’ll just end up just as bad as I was last year. I want to fucking die. I need to do something, or else I’ll go fucking insane.  _ ~~

_ You’re what keeps me going at night. I like seeing you smile, even if it isn’t at me. And I know you probably don’t like me,  _ ~~_ and why would you? I’m a loser _ ~~ _. But I like you.  _

~~_ Love, Thanks _ ~~

~~_ Jeremiah _ ~~ _ Jeremy Heere _

Jeremy stared down at it, eyes blurred. He couldn’t say that. All of that came out wrong, it sounded so gross and weird and annoying. God, why did he have to be so annoying? 

The first rip was therapeutic, almost, watching the long, thin, jagged line tear down the paper. It broke up a word, some sentences, entire paragraphs. The second and third were harder to do, but soon enough, he was left with a tiny pile of torn looseleaf with fragments of words in his hands. He looked down at the toilet and dropped them in, watching the paper grow waterlogged. He betted that wasn’t the worst thing dropped down the second floor boy’s bathroom at Middleborough High. 

He flushed the toilet, letting it swirl down and around, wiping at his eyes. No way was he getting that back. But every word written there was so, so true. He couldn’t do this anymore. If something didn’t change, he’d end up dead by the end of the week. He was so fucking desperate for something to change, some sort of difference. 

Maybe Christine couldn’t help him, but she’d be something different, something to live for. 

And now the only way he’d ever be able to talk to her was swirling down the drain, along with his mood. 

Maybe he was supposed to be alone. 

— 

“I tore it up and flushed it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve had this headcanon stuck in my head that jeremy got the squip bc he needed a change bc he was mentally unstable from his mom leaving and then i had this idea because i sometimes write letters to people and then never send them SO therefore sad jeremy letter was born. 
> 
> anyways i’m putting this out there that if you feel like this, it’s okay to seek help!! you don’t need to face it alone. most places have hotlines that can help. talk to someone, do something to help yourself that isn’t harmful to yourself or others. (e.g. don’t take a super pill that ruins your life. bad idea kids.) 
> 
> stay safe, and stay wonderful, loves.
> 
> ~ percy


End file.
